Miss Croc
by Dragoandnikki
Summary: A girl who loves art, sends someone a picture and is surprised when he shows up, injured in her backyard. Her father is tearing the house apart while she sings to him about crocodiles who smile. Killer Croc x Oc
1. Chapter 1

*Memory thought*

Miss Croc

You'd think, being eighteen, that I could leave home and nothing would trouble me on the way out. But you'd be wrong. I'm slammed against the wall and punched in the gut. When I fall to the floor, he kicks me in the soft side for good measure. "Stupid whore, get a better fucking job!" I pant and wheeze on the floor, watching his shadow fade as I stand up and walk wobbly and broken toward my room. I sit on the bed and pick up my sketchbook, drawing him again. I always drew the strongest and smartest and most influential people, mostly because I imagined them taking me away and saving me. I don't know why they would care or how they would know because I certainly wasn't going to tell them.

The newspaper sits on my bed as well, and I stop my drawing of the senator shaking hands with Batman. I see a picture of Batman grappling with someone new to the city. Killer Croc. The more I looked at him, the more I had the urge to draw. It's funny, I didn't usually draw villains or criminals... I flip to a new page and start scribbling furiously. I don't know what pose he'll be in or what he'll be doing in the picture until it's finished and I've erased every errant scribble. I've realized over time that the drawings I sketch this way, with this urge to draw like the wind... it means I'm about to draw something true. Something... something that has happened, or will happen... or maybe even is happening right now.

I brush the flecks of eraser off the page and look at the whole thing. He's curled up on a large mattress, his arms draped over his chest and stomach, his right leg straight and his left bent at the knee. His tail dangled over the end of the bed, with motion lines around it as if it were flicking. His eyes were closed, his lips just slightly parted... I found myself grabbing my colored pencils and coloring in the whole picture. I know what color everything is. The mattress is stained with something akin to coffee or tea. The wall behind him is brick and mortar. I don't know why I've drawn and colored this all of a sudden, but...

I look into the paper and skim over the article. He's been sent to Arkham asylum. Not because he's insane, but because they have an underground area that they can lock him in without him escaping or interacting with any other inmates. So that's where I assigned the envelope. That's right, I sent it to him. I don't know why, I don't even know what the hell I was thinking at the moment I put it into the mailbox, I just know that the next day it was gone, and there was no taking it back.

Though what happened next might have made me regret it just a teeny bit.

I was in school when the bulletin went out.  
Killer Croc has escaped Arkham! You are advised to lock yourselves inside and not go out unless absolutely necessary.  
I wasn't worried about anything, really. He probably hadn't even opened my letter, right? That made me feel strangely sad. I don't know why, yet again. I don't know a lot of things lately. My ribs were bruised from the beating my dad had given me the other day and my fingers were still a little sore from being broken a few months ago. Dad thought it was funny that I couldn't draw with broken fingers. I just finger painted. It was sort of like a 'fuck you' without him knowing about it but it made me feel better. At least I was in control of some things.

Arkham was pretty far away, he probably wouldn't be anywhere near my neighborhood, he usually started his thefts and kills in the middle of gotham. I was on the other side. So when I got home that night, I yawned, dropped my book bag and walked into my room. I was seized by the need to draw again, so I picked up my sketchbook, and once I'd started drawing, I knew it was a self-portrait. I have no idea why I decided to draw myself as I was when I got beaten up, but I did. My shirt was rumpled, my face was bruised and puffy... and my eye was swollen closed. It was like the worst beating of my life, and... when I heard the door open, I knew it was coming.

Sometimes my artistic urge warned me about things like this. I'd learned to not ignore it. So I got up and locked my door, walked to the window and crawled outside. I took my sketchbook with me and ran to the tree outside my room. I climbed up into a forked branch and sat, waiting for it to start. The screaming came after the crashing, the crashing after the yelling, the yelling after the insulting... I just sort of curled up with my sketchbook and an image came to my mind. It wasn't really a premonition, it was just a wish. So I drew it. My father was slumped against a wall, and a dark shadow was standing off to the side, glaring down at him.

It wasn't long before I was hearing things in the dark. It was sort of a panting, groaning, rumbling in the throat sound... like you hear on the nature channel when the crocodile hunter is... I look down when the body heaves itself around the corner of a nearby tree and crawls toward my house. I gape at the muscular visage of Killer Croc and gasp at the sound of hissing and crackling coming from his neck. He's being electrocuted. I don't think about anything but the smell of burning flesh and the pained groans caught in his throat. I drop my sketchpad and climb down, running to the shed and when it doesn't open, cursing at the lock on the door. I look down and see my dad left the axe out. So I chop around the handle with it, as hard as I can, until the door swings open.

I'm running inside and back out with something akin to the jaws of life and stopping beside him as he claws the earth and tries to keep moving forward. I drop them in front of him and when his head jerks up I back away. His amber eyes flick to the pair of jaws and grab them up, putting them against his scales and flinching in pain when they slide against blistering skin. He squeezes and in one smooth movement and a quick, snikt, it was off and he was panting for breath.

I stood there for a long time, watching him breathe and his throat throbbing in time with his heart, which was galloping by the way. He looks up at me as I stand there, trembling. Oh great idea, Nik. Just give him something to cut off his shock collar so he can recover and eat you. Why not just butter and salt yourself and hop into his jaws? Funny though, he seems a lot less monstrous while he's on his hands and knees, panting for air and staring up at me with his eyes cloudy and half-lidded, like he was exhausted and beaten down. Like a person who'd been getting shocked for the past day and couldn't attack me if his life depended on it. He fell on his face, his eyes still rolling up to look at me. I got a feeling that he was waiting for something. Maybe for me to scream, maybe for me to use those jaws on his neck... maybe a lot of things. But when his eyes closed and he shuddered... all I could see was his pain. I saw him for what he was. A criminal who'd just broken out of prison, okay, that was a given... but... he was a person. He wasn't a monster, or a mutant, or anything like that... he was just... a person.

So I fell to my hands and knees and crawled toward him on the grass. I picked up his head and lay it on my lap, checking his neck and trying to figure out how bad it was hurting him. He growled deep in his chest. I stroke his face, I don't know why, but I do. I stroke his cheek with my knuckles and speak soothing words. "It's okay..." I whispered to him, "I won't let anyone hurt you... you're safe." His breathing evened out and I sighed in relief. Well at least I wouldn't have to worry about him eating me quite yet. Hopefully he'd wake up tomorrow and go on the run again. He rolled on his back and then onto his other side, his head still in my lap. He sighs in his sleep and curls into a ball. I stroke his face, then his shoulder, and his arm. I whisper soothing, low words in his ear. His tail twitched every now and then, as if flicking away invisible enemies.

I start singing after a while, I guess I just figure that's what you should do when someone is hurting. I sing softly, lowly, you wouldn't be able to hear me in the house, which is good because my father is still having a tantrum. He's not been able to get in my room apparently because the light is still on and I can see into it. I swallow hard and sing another line, getting louder just a little bit when he twitched and writhed a bit. I think, in response to my father's screaming.

"Shhh." I hushed him and sang into his ear, leaning over his head and blocking out my fathers' screaming. I sang 'crocodile rock' and 'Don't smile at a crocodile.' He stilled and seemed to settle back into deep sleep. I knew I'd have to do something about his neck, after all it was blistered and burned and... I just didn't know what to do. When I heard my fathers' truck race out of the driveway, I put his head on the grass and whispered that I'd be right back, and I'd take care of him. "Don't move, okay?" I doubted he could actually hear me, but whatever, right?

I ran to my window, climbed inside and picked up my laptop. I opened it up and typed in a search for how to treat electrical burns.

Debridement: Caregivers remove damaged tissue from your body to prevent infection, decrease inflammation, and improve your healing

Wound care: Your burn will be covered with a bandage to keep it moist and clean. You may clean your burn with soap and water. Ask how often you should change your bandage.

Oh hell. I'd have to remove the damaged skin and bandage it? And it said he should get a tetanus shot too! Fucking hell! I sighed and got up, grabbing a pair of tweezers I use for splinters when I'm working with wooden canvases and the first aid kit in the bathroom. I run outside with a flashlight on my wrist and kneel down next to him where he's still lying, unconscious.

I point the light at his neck and turn it on. Oh god it was even worse in the light. But there were little pieces of skin sticking up and hanging off and I figured that's what should be cut off. If it wasn't... god help him. So I opened the first aid kit and pulled out the scissors. They're really sharp, so I'm super careful. I hold a piece of flesh in the tweezers and he grunts in his sleep. I snip it and he doesn't even twitch. So I do it again, and again. Then I push on his shoulder until he rolls over on his other side and I do it there too.

I finally can't find anything more to cut so I put the scissors back and pull out the alcohol. Okay now this might sting. So I put his head down on the grass again and unscrew the top of the alcohol bottle. I spill it and jump back. He hisses and his body goes rigid. He doesn't wake up or claw at me though. So I nudge him on his back and then over to the other side to do it again. I pull out the gauze and smear antiseptic on it, then place it against his skin gingerly. He barely twitches. I keep doing it and taping it down until his whole neck is wreathed in gauze.

What was I even doing this for? Why was I even helping this guy? Just because he was weak and hurt? Just because I had seen him at his most vulnerable? It's not like he isn't eating me on purpose. He's unconscious. Oh god, what happens when he wakes up? I mean just because I was nice to him doesn't mean he'd be nice to me. I was practically pulling my hair out when he rolled over onto his front and pushed himself up on his arms. I backed away like he was on fire and a hand caught my ankle. I choked on a scream as he pulled me back and underneath him. His hand was on my throat now, holding me down but not really choking me.

"You..." He coughed and choked a bit. "Who?" He's trying hard not to hurt his throat, and when he reaches up to touch it and feels the gauze, he pauses. "Why?" He's staring down at me with narrowed eyes and his fingers clench and unclench around my throat.  
"I... don't know?" I swallow hard and he stares at me for a while.  
"Who?" He grimaced at the pain asking that caused him.  
"N... Nikki."  
"Picture." He coughed and curled his arm around his throat.  
"Wh- oh. The picture, yeah, I... that was me." He leaned down close to my face and I tried to keep my breathing even as his nostrils flared.  
"Afraid." I lick my lips and his eyes dart to them.  
"Yeah... a little. I mean... you're on the news a lot... I mean... you're a criminal... and you don't have a gun but you don't really need one, huh?" I was babbling. "I mean you've got sharp teeth and claws and stuff, and you don't really get hurt by bullets, I mean I'd heard-" His hand covered my mouth.  
"Quiet." He rumbled as I nodded and pulled his large hand away from my lips. I lick them again and can suddenly taste the metallic tang of his scales. It's not unpleasant, but it is different than anything I've ever tasted before. I blink and his face is suddenly too close to mine. I take a deep breath and try not to panic. Then he's groaning and collapsing on top of me, his head beside mine. His breathing is deep and even and I couldn't move him if I tried for ten years.

"God, why me?" I speak to the sky as I lie there under a hulking crocodile man. "Why the hell, I mean... you tell me what to do and I'll do it. But damn. Couldn't you have made him fall to the side of me?" I actually started laughing a little. Then I pulled my arms out from under him and wrapped them around his shoulders. I guess you'd call it petting. What I did next. I just sort of patted and stroked his back and tried to keep him calm in his sleep. Who knows what he'd do to me if he had a nightmare?

I don't remember falling asleep when I wake up, but what really surprises me, is that I'm sitting up, on something warm, lying against a moving chest. I look up to see a sleeping crocodile man sitting against a tree with me in his arms. We're nowhere near where we were before. The house is still right there, but now we're outside my room. I pull away from him and his arms grip me so tightly that I gasp for air. He relaxes when I lie back against him. I groan. "God..." His head nuzzled my shoulder and rested in the crook of my neck.

Is it weird that I'm okay with this? That I want to fall asleep again and stay asleep for a long time? That I want to wake up in the same spot and fall asleep, over and over again? Forever? Yeah, it's weird. I'm terrified, but I can't move. I have no motivation to move. His hand starts to move over my back, stroking lightly and softly, his claws dragging slightly against my skin. "Um..." His hand stilled, his head lifting from my neck and his eyes blinking open. His eyes darted to me and I swallowed hard as the trembling started up again. I licked my lips again, slowly this time, trying not to freak out and focusing entirely too much on his mouth, filled with razor sharp teeth.  
"Um. That's the first thing out of your mouth?" He sounded mildly amused as he stared down at me, but there was no amusement in his gaze. I bite my lip.  
"Um... yes?" My voice was high and squeaky. His lips twitched. His face was mostly human, now that I could see him clearly in the light of- Oh my god! I gasp and dart to my feet, looking around for my sketchbook. "Oh my god, it's daytime, and it's sooo past seven o'clock. I'm late for school. Shit-Fuck!" I heard a rumble and turned to see him laughing at me.  
"There's a convict in your backyard, and you're worried about missing school? What if I decided to eat you?" I pause and blink.  
"Nope, I'm still freaking out." And then I climb in through my window and grab a change of clothes. "God, I'm covered in dirt and leaves and grass-!" I hear a small thump and turn to see him standing against my window. He's leaning back on his hands as he looks around and I almost gape at his pose. It's like a GQ model is standing in my room. Sure his pants are tattered and stained with blood and dirt, but they fit so well. and his pose is so... relaxed. He glances at me, his head moving to look at me.  
"Weren't you in a hurry?" I blink and go back to running around my room, stuffing things into my backpack and grabbing my clothes, running into the bathroom and starting up the shower.

I got into the shower and scrubbed at my hair until the water ran clean, then suds'd up my entire body and rinsed myself clean. It took about ten minutes. I jumped out, dried off, put on my clothes and ran into my room to get my backpack. I stop when I open the door. Why? Oh it's nothing big, he's just lying on my bed! He's in a very GQ pose again. His right leg bent at the knee and his left leg lying on the bed only slightly bent, his hand on his knee and the other resting on his stomach. His head thrown back on the top of the pillows. He looked up when I stood there for a minute.  
"Something the matter?" I blink and shake my head and mutter,  
"God this is bizarre..." His lips definitely twitched this time.

I pick up my backpack and sigh. "God the bus... what time is it..." I mutter to myself and look at the clock. God it's almost noon. I pick up the schedule and look over it. There's a sudden warmth at the base of my neck and when I reach up to grab it and frown, a hand is covering mine and pulling it down to point out a Twelve-thirty bus. I swallow as the breath fans across my throat and then is suddenly gone, along with the hand. I shrug on my backpack and walk out of my room without looking back.

Do I call the police? Do I send up a smoke signal for Batman, or something? I just kept thinking over and over that when I get home he won't be there, or he'll eat me... either way I should tell someone, right?

*"It's okay..." I whispered to him, "I won't let anyone hurt you... you're safe."*

Fuck, I had said that, hadn't I? I smack my head against the window of the bus. Should it matter what I promised him? Should it matter that I sang to him and whispered sweet words and told him he was safe?

*I put his head on the grass and whispered that I'd be right back, and I'd take care of him.*

God...

*Is it weird that I'm okay with this? That I want to fall asleep again and stay asleep for a long time? That I want to wake up in the same spot and fall asleep, over and over again? Forever?*

Hell... "Miss?" I jerk and someone beside me is pointing outside at my school. The bus is stopped right down the street. I jump to my feet and thank him before running outside and sprinting toward my school.


	2. What am I now?

Chapter 2

I begged them not to tell my father that I'd slept in and missed morning classes. I told them I'd make up my homework after school if they wanted, just don't call my father. They'd kept me after in detention and I finished my homework for this morning and everything else too. I was released and went home on the bus. When I stepped up to my front door, I heard something like slamming cabinet doors. My father was still in a mood. So I walked around back and climbed into my window. And when I looked up, he was asleep on my bed. Not my father. Him. Killer Croc was lying on my bed, sleeping soundly.

I stared at him for a while, watching his chest move, up and down, with his breath. His tail twitched and flicked. I lick my lips nervously and walk over to the bed, reaching out to poke his arm. His eyes opened faster than I expected and I jumped a little when he pushed himself up on his right arm. One arm on his knee that he pulled up, and the other keeping his upper body off the bed. Another modeling pose. I don't think he knew what he was doing. "Your father is upset, apparently there's no food in the house." I gasp. Oh god, I forgot to go grocery shopping after school! God, I was getting a beating today anyway, wasn't I? I fall to my knees as I start to panic and wrap my arms around myself. His foot is right in front of me, planted on the ground, the other right beside it. I look up as he leans down and we're face to face as I breathe like I'm dying and stare into his eyes. Then his knuckles are on my cheek and stroking, lightly, softly. It's like he has no idea what he's doing.

I realize it doesn't matter that it's sloppy and inexperienced, because my breathing is slowing and I'm slowly closing my eyes and leaning into the first kind touch from another human being that I've ever felt. His palm is suddenly cupping my cheek and his thumb is brushing my lips slowly, soothingly. I sigh and my tongue flicks my lips before I even notice my lips are dry. His thumb stills and I start to feel really hot in the face as I think, 'Oh god oh god, just pull away, just don't mention it, don't say ANYTHING.' I swallow with my lips still slightly parted and when I go to pull away, his thumb is pressing between my lips. I can feel the exact moment I lose my mind. My legs quiver, something starts feeling hot in the center of my body and my mouth closes over his thumb and I suck lightly on it, my tongue stroking the scales. My eyes are still closed but I can feel his breath on my face now and it just makes that heat in my core hotter and... hell, wetter. I feel my face get redder and when he pulls his thumb out of my mouth, I part my lips to lick them again, quickly, nervously.  
"What are you so afraid of?" I open my eyes, and see he hasn't moved. He's still staring at me from barely an inch away from my face.  
"I..." I wasn't afraid NOW. "Nothing." His head tilted.  
"Why did you start hyper-ventilating?" I flush and look down.  
"I just... freaked. I guess..." I stand up, "I need to go get groceries." I stop in the doorway and swallow hard. "Do you need... anything?" His voice was a growl.  
"No." It made me shudder and my legs felt weak for a second. God I'm losing my mind.

I ran outside, yelling into the front room, "Dad, I'm going to get some groceries, I'll be back in twenty minutes!" He was yelling back at me from the other room as I shut the door. I opened the garage and got on my bike with the large basket on the back. I struck out on the street, hitting the button to close the garage.

I almost pass the grocery store in my dazed state. I buy a whole lot of canned food and then a bunch of meat and cheese, some bananas for me and a pack of toaster struedels. I ride back quickly and toss the food into the pantry and refrigerator and try to run for my room. He catches me and clotheslines me. I scream and it ends in a gurgle, choking and coughing when he kicks my already bruised ribs. "What the fuck took you so damn lo-" The blows suddenly stop. I hear that gasping growling, menacing sound again, and I look up. Which I regret immediately. His hand is wrapped around my fathers windpipe and is slowly crushing it. I gasp and get on my knees, coughing and whispering, pleading. "Please... stop..." I hold my throat and when I hear the ominous crack! I begin to sob. It's silent since any noise would hurt my throat, but it's wrenching my neck anyway and I bury my face in my hands as a pair of arms wrap around me and pull me into a warm body. I don't even register that we're moving until I'm set down on my bed and my eyes open to see him wrapping around me and staring down at me. I hiccup and cover my face again. "Why?" I whisper. His voice is deep and rich, more human than I've heard from him before,  
"Because he didn't deserve life." I shuddered and when his lips touched my cheek and he sampled my tears, I shuddered again, but for a different reason. God, I'm distraught and I'm still losing my mind.

I actually pulled my hands away so he could do it again. His lips were softer than I'd expected, scaly but... more like soft underbelly scales on a snake... or I guess... a crocodile. I felt my lips twitch upwards and then I laughed. "God, I'm so stupid." I feel him breathe against my lips and all I want is to lean up and close the distance. I don't care that he killed my father, in fact I'm kind of... feeling ecstatic which is WRONG. I bite my lip. "Why do you care if he was bad? Don't you hurt people, too?" I'm very confused, and when his lips touch my throat, I almost pass out from fear. Was he going to bite me because I said something stupid? Something SO stupid!  
"Yes." He hisses against my throat. I feel my lips part and I whisper,  
"Oh."

I don't know when I fell asleep, but when I woke up, he was gone. I look around, trying to figure out what time it is and why he isn't there. Was it just a dream? I leapt to my feet and ran out to the hallway. My fathers' body is still lying there. I almost throw up when I see his crushed throat. I run for the phone and dial 9-1-1.

When they get to my house, I tell them nothing more than I had come home and found him like this. They saw my red eyes and the new tears spilling down my face and didn't ask any questions of me. They took fingerprints from my fathers' skin and when they got a match, and they looked at me with such fear and relief in their eyes... "You're lucky to be alive."

I didn't feel lucky. I was going to be put in a foster home... I was going to be beat by a whole new family... and he wasn't here anymore... I cried in bed and covered my head with my blanket. Someone knocked on my back door and I ignored them. Then something in my room thumped and I turned over to glare at the window. He was there, standing in the same pose as before, watching me. My eyes softened and filled with tears again. "They know it was you... I didn't tell them." He huffed.  
"I know. The Bat will be here soon." I frown.  
"What? Why?"  
"He always investigates crime scenes like this." Oh. I bite my lip.  
"So you can't come back?" He shakes his head. I drop my body back into my bed and curl into the fetal position.  
"You can make a decision, right now." I blink at the wall and hum. "You can stay here, and stay pathetic." I whip up and glare at him, "Or you can come with me, and be strong."  
"Why do you even give a fuck about what I want?" He rolls his eyes.  
"I don't. I'm dragging you out of this house if I have to." I scoff.  
"That's gentlemanly."  
He grins a toothy smirk, "No one ever accused me of bein' a gentleman."  
"Wouldn't it be nice if they could?" His smirk drifted away. I sigh, "Fine, you know what, give me a minute."

It took less time than I thought to pack up all my art supplies and clothes. I had a lot less than I thought. Of course that's to be expected right? I sling the duffel bag over my shoulder and hold the other bag in my hand. I look up at him and he climbs out of the window. He's waiting right outside, and I walk up to the window. I look at him, and I know I can close the window, and he'll probably break in and drag me away, but I could make the choice not to go, and I could feel self-righteous when he kidnapped me... I could excuse my actions. But I don't close the window. I step outside and follow the larger man as he steps off my property and into the street. I look down the street, one way and another. There's no one, no one to see me do this incredibly stupid thing.

I followed him to a manhole. He opened it and jumped down inside it, I thought for sure he'd get stuck, I mean god his shoulders are wide, but somehow he's able to twist himself into a smaller shape and drop down without stopping. I follow him.

I follow him for a long time. Until we end up in a large open space with valves all over the walls. He lies down on the floor and watches me drop my bags and walk around, looking at all the labels. "This is different. I've never seen so many valves and pipes before." I reached up to touch one and his hand was suddenly there, cradling mine.  
"It's awful hot to be touchin'." His accent had a faint twang and his voice was right next to my ear. I didn't drop my hand and his fingers laced with mine. I swallow and feel a weird tingle down my spine. God, is it hot in here!? His lips were suddenly touching my ear. "You can sleep on me if you need somethin' softer than concrete. I don' mind." I shiver and almost collapse backwards into him. I nod and swallow. He lets go of my hand and I drop it back to my side, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he steps up beside me and looks at the pipes with labels. "This isn't permanent. I just need to find someplace... safe." I turn my head and frown.  
"Safe? In Gotham?" My lips twitch up and I'm grinning and his chuckle rumbles down my spine.  
"Point taken, but if you're with me, not many people are going to bother you." I flush and look at the wall again, my grin disappearing. 'with me' He'd said. It sounded... well not like it should have sounded. It was matter-of-fact. It wasn't romantic in the least. Why then, did it make me want to lean into his side and wrap an arm around his waist? "You seem uncomfortable." I glance at him and then back at the wall.  
"No."  
"... what then?" I lick my lips.  
"Why did you come to my house?" I turn my head now, to see him looking down at me, just standing there, nonchalant and completely unassuming.  
"Why did you send me the picture?" I looked into his eyes.  
"I don't know." He stares at me.  
"You never thought about it before then?"  
"I never drew you before then." He blinks, slowly.  
"Why did you draw me at all?"  
"I..." I frown. "I just- had to. I got this feeling like inspiration when I saw you in the paper, and I just... had to."  
"Why?" I exasperated a sigh,  
"I don't know, I just-"  
"Why did you draw me if you'd never thought of it before? Why me? Why send it?"  
"I don't-"  
"Why not choose a better subject?"  
"What?"  
"Batman, all the other heroes in the city, hell even JOKER. Why me?"  
"What, why you and not them?" He snorts and flicks his tail.  
"No. Why me at all? Look at me."  
"Look at what?"  
"I'm covered in scales."  
"So what?"  
"So I'm not exactly art-worthy."  
"What are you talking about, you're beautiful!" I clapped a hand over my mouth and he stood there, staring at me for a moment. "Oh my god I'm so sorry," I muttered into my hands. "I so didn't mean to blurt that out like that, and oh god I-" His hand was over my mouth again.  
"You talk like it's your job when you're nervous, you notice that?" I nod. "Now, I'm going to move my hand, and you're going to calm down." I nod again. "And if you freak out, that's okay." I frown when he moves his hand away and open my mouth to ask, but I'm suddenly occupied with his tongue in my mouth and I can barely keep myself on my feet.

His tongue was big, oh my god big, and he used it to sweep my entire mouth before he stroked mine into movement. I was moaning, my hands on his shoulders, gripping and clinging. His hands were under my shirt, stroking my back with his palm, his claws away from my skin, like he didn't trust himself not to cut me into little pieces. Even that thought couldn't wake me up. I was floating right now, my whole body a mass of hot steam. He pulled away and our breathing was huffy. I was staring up at him with my lips parted. "God, you're so-" I heard something like a twang and he was growling, turning around and when I glanced around him, I was shocked to see Batman.  
"You usually smell me coming Croc. You're getting sloppy." His chest seemed to roll with a sinister growl.  
"Wh-"  
"Girl, I'm just gonna say this once." I blink up at him and he growls over his shoulder at me, "Don't get involved." I feel my lips part and I reach forward as he jumps on the dark shadowed hero.


End file.
